In the Dark
by NextCompanion
Summary: Buffy and Dean find they have one strange thing in common: their deaths. Oneshot. Slight BuffyxDean.


"_If Heaven and Hell decide_

_That they both are satisfied_

_And illuminate the 'No's on their vacancy signs._

_If there's no one beside you_

_When your soul embarks_

_Then I'll follow you into the dark."_

Dean woke gasping, the same way he always did. He gripped the threadbare comforter tightly, trying to control his breathing. At least he wasn't waking up screaming anymore. This way he didn't wake Sammy.

He flung himself out of bed and pulled his shirt on. After the dreams, his rooms always seemed too close, too small. Needing to escape, he grabbed a beer and quietly slipped out of the hotel room, leaving his shoes behind.

Dean leaned against the outer wall of the hotel room, still trying to get his breathing steady. It was late, or maybe early. Either way it was nearly pitch black, with only a few sparse streetlights creating shadows in the parking lot. He glanced down the porch and was surprised to see Buffy sitting outside her room.

They had only been hunting together for a few days, maybe a week. But she was good. Possibly the best hunter he had ever met, including himself. She didn't call herself a hunter (Soldier? Stalker? He could never remember), but she obviously knew what she was doing.

He looked her up and down. Normally, he would have already tried to get involved in a girl who looked like that, but Buffy was different. It wasn't that he was scared of her. He wasn't afraid to take on a woman who could quite possibly beat him in a knife fight. Or any kind of fight. He found that part of her incredibly hot.

It was that he found himself trusting her, an abnormal amount, more than he should under any circumstances. Sam wasn't worried, but then, he was always the more trusting one. Dean was surprised to find himself trusting Buffy time and time again. Even trusting her with his life. He ducked back into his hotel room to grab another beer.

"Couldn't sleep?" he said, moving to sit down next to her. She glanced at him, took the bottle he was offering, and looked back forward.

"I don't really sleep so much anymore," she said, opening her beer with one hand.

"Yeah?" Dean set his head against the wall. "Me neither."

They sat there in silence, neither looking at the other, neither fully acknowledging the other's presence, but both secretly glad of the company.

"Back in there," Buffy wet her lips, cleared her throat. "When you were talking with Sam, you mentioned…. your death?" she said. She phrased it as a question, but she already knew the answer. She had another question to ask him, a different one, but her words were tangled and confused.

Dean stared steadfastly forward. He hardly knew this girl, but he knew she was not like other hunters. There was something different, deeper about her.

"That's the reason I can't sleep," he said quietly. "When I sleep, it's too much like dying. I can't move, I can't breathe, and…"

"Nightmares?" Buffy suggested.

Dean snorted quietly. "Memories. When I sleep, my brain relives those moments, over and over and over. Sometimes it's the same scenes. Sometimes they are new ones, memories I didn't even know I had."

"But you know they're real," Buffy commented. "You know it's not your brain making them up, trying to cope. You know it's the real deal."

Dean glanced over at Buffy, but she continued to look straight ahead. They were both silent.

"How long were you gone?" Dean asked, taking a drink.

"Almost a year. You?"

"Four months."

She nodded. "Still hurts, doesn't it?"

He didn't know why he was opening up to her. These were things he hadn't told anyone, things he was sure no one could ever know. But this girl understood him. And she wasn't pushing. Just… sitting. He liked that.

"I'm always surprised."

"By?"

"How much it hurts," he said. "It's like a part of myself got left there. Maybe the most essential part. The part that matters most to this, this life. It was torn out of me. And there's no way to get it back."

"You've seen the worthlessness of it all," Buffy said, with a hint of venom in her voice. "You've seen what comes after this. There's no question anymore. You pass hundreds of people everyday. They all have questions. They all have belief. They all have faith. But you, you don't have anything. You know exactly what's going to happen. There's nothing for you here."

Dean looked down, rolling the bottle between his hands. "Well, there's Sam," he said halfheartedly.

"But is it enough to live for other people?" Buffy responded, turning to look at him. "Paste a smile on your face, get up, make breakfast, all so your little sister will think you're fine? Won't suspect that you dream about it everysinglenight?"

"... Sam's my brother…." Dean said, a little confused.

Buffy blinked. "Isn't that what I said?"

He didn't argue. They both settled back against the wall. Silence.

"The thing is…" Dean chose his words carefully. "Sammy can't know. There's no way he could understand."

"They want to," Buffy said. "They want to understand, to help it be all better. Fix it with a happy song or a good burger." She gave him a small smirk.

He smiled wanly in return. "But that doesn't change the fact that every night, you have the same dreams. You go back to the same place. And you know, not too long from now, some stupid demon or monster is going to come along, and you're just going to be a little too slow, or a little too stupid, and in one instant he'll get you and send you right back to…"

"Heaven?" Buffy suggested.

"No," Dean said, turning to look at Buffy. "Hell."

She shrugged. "Same thing really."


End file.
